


Bits and Bobs

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: A collection of Tumblr ficlets. Ratings and pairings will vary.





	1. Peter/Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of fics from Tumblr.

Anonymous said:  
3\. "You're such a pain in my ass, it actually hurts to fucking love you" and 5. "I swear to god, if you weren't so hot, you'd have been dead already" for the enemies to lovers? Steter? 

From [this post](http://hotpinklizard.tumblr.com/post/172784489375/trope-writing-prompts).

* * *

“I swear to god, if you weren’t so hot, you would have been dead already,” Stiles says from where he’s hunched over Derek’s coffee table, staring at the books and paper laid out in front of him.

“I was dead already,” Peter says. “And look at that, I’m even better looking after.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, I gave the pack of misfit toys the information they needed about the pixies,” Peter says. “Not a thank you?”

“Yeah, after you called them idiots and let them run around the preserve like headless chickens for an hour,” Stiles says. 

“They’re fine, they said no one got hurt,” Peter says with a shrug. “I need to get my petty revenges somewhere, don’t I?”

“Do you have any idea how long I spent convincing Scott you’re not out to kill us, only for you to pull crap like this? You’re such a pain in my ass, it actually hurts to fucking love you,” Stiles snaps. Peter’s eyes widen and it takes a second for Stiles to realize what he said. Then the panic sets in. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Stiles grabs his books off the table, hastily shoving them into his bag before reaching for the loose papers scattered around. He needs out of here now. He knows Peter, knows the ammo he just gave him and he’s not willing to sit here and be verbally eviscerated. Before he can turn to go, Peter’s stepping in front of him. Stiles keeps his eyes on the papers in his hands, refusing to look up. The mocking face he’s sure is waiting for him isn’t something he needs to see.

“Stiles,” Peter says softly, hands wrapping around Stiles’ wrists. Stiles jerks at the touch, but doesn’t try to pull away. Foolish of him, he knows, but with Peter gently brushing his thumb over the soft skin of his wrist, it’s hard to want to make him stop. “Stiles, please look at me.”

“Why?” Stiles asks. “To begin the humiliation? No thanks, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just go.”

Stiles tries to step back but Peter goes with him, walking forward until Stiles’ back is against the wall, Peter’s body is pressed against his. Stiles swallows hard, his eyes firmly planted on Peter’s chest, which is also a dangerous game all on its own.

“Do you really think I would mock you?” Peter asks. His voice is still soft, gentle. So different from what Stiles is used to with him.

“Uh, yes,” Stiles says. “It’s kind of you entire M.O. Vicious mockery and derision, so as fun as that sounds - ”

“I love you, too, darling boy,” Peter says. Stiles closes his mouth with a click. He can’t help but look up then. Peter’s face is raw and open, his well-used masks and walls down. He brings a hand up to cradle Stiles’ jaw, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. 

Stiles has to clear his throat a few times before his voice will work and he can ask, “You love me?“ 

"Of course I do. How could I not?” Peter says. “I don’t know why you’re laboring under the belief that you’re unlovable, but that’s something I promise I’m going to cure you of.”

“I don’t think that,” Stiles says, trying to look away, but Peter keeps his hand cradling his face. 

“You do,” Peter says. “And someday you’ll learn not to lie to werewolves.”

“Habit,” Stiles says with a shrug. 

“How about we form new habits, you and I. I promise not to lie to you, if you promise not to lie to me,” Peter says.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says, because easy enough. That’s not what’s flowing through his mind, though. It’s that Peter, hot, unattainable, sometimes unstable Peter, says he loves him. And god help Stiles, but he believes him. “I just…my world view is just shifting a bit right now.”

Peter chuckles and leans in, resting his forehead against Stiles’.

“I understand, sweetheart,” he says. “Know that now that I have you, I have no intention of letting you go.”


	2. Peter/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bloody-bee-tea said:  
> 12 from the best friends to lovers thing for steter please?

bloody-bee-tea said:  
12 from the best friends to lovers thing for steter please?

From [this post](http://hotpinklizard.tumblr.com/post/172784489375/trope-writing-prompts), 'I wish I could just see you as the friend you see me as'

* * *

_I wish I could just see you as the friend you see me as_

The text glows at Peter accusingly, like it didn’t just flip his world on its head. He’s on a run in the preserve and hadn’t felt his phone vibrate. He hadn’t seen the text ‘til now, when he’d stopped to catch his breath and take a drink a few miles into the forest. 

Peter’s used to Stiles’ name on his screen. They’re close now, closer than Peter had ever expected they’d be. Their sharp barbs had turned to banter. The distrust had given way to a wary truce, to genuine affection. Stiles is the first true friend Peter has had in years. This…this isn’t something he’d expected. 

The text, _I wish I could just see you as the friend you see me as,_ was followed a few minutes later by, _Shit, I didn’t mean to send that,_ and _I’m sorry,_ and _Please don’t be mad._ The timestamps on all of them are over an hour ago and Peter wants to curse, because he knows Stiles, and knows he’ll be sitting and stewing in this, thinking he’s done something wrong.

Peter slips the phone back into his pocket and turns back toward civilization. He runs faster than he had before, his destination in mind. It takes a half hour to get out of the preserve to where he’d parked his car, and another ten minutes before he’s pulling up in front of the Stilinski house. He thanks whatever gods are watching that the sheriff isn’t home.

Peter has to knock for a few minutes before he hears Stiles move from inside, realizing whoever at the door isn’t going to go away. His eyes widen when he sees Peter, and Peter can tell for a split second he thinks about slamming the door in his face. 

“You didn’t mean to send it, or you didn’t mean to send it to _me_?” Peter asks. 

To Stiles’ credit, he doesn’t feign ignorance and ask what Peter’s talking about. 

“Does it matter?” Stiles asks.

“Yes,” Peter says.

Stiles swallows hard and quietly says, “I didn’t mean to send it. I type it out sometimes, then chicken out and delete it. But my clumsy thumbs had other plans, I guess.”

“You’re my closest friend, Stiles,” Peter says. Stiles winces, but Peter places a hand on his shoulder before he can turn away. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“I - what?” Stiles asks.

“We don’t have to just be friends if that’s what we want. That’s a leap I’m more than happy to make,” Peter says. “Let me take you on a date.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously, before his lips curl into a grin.

“Tonight?” Stiles asks.

“Tonight,” Peter says. “Go put on something other than sweatpants.”

Stiles flips him off over his shoulder as he runs inside to change.


	3. Peter/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lavender-lotion said:  
> for the friends to lovers (if you're doing them) could you do “what, you’ve never thought about us?” for steter

lavender-lotion said:  
for the friends to lovers (if you're doing them) could you do “what, you’ve never thought about us?” for steter 

From [this post.](http://hotpinklizard.tumblr.com/post/172784489375/trope-writing-prompts)

* * *

“What, you’ve never though about us?” Stiles asks. Peter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve seen the way you look at my ass, so be careful about lying here, buddy.”

“I don’t make a habit of dating high schoolers,” Peter drawls. They’re alone in Derek’s loft, something Peter has been actively trying to avoid (that’s a hard thing to do when someone as determined as Stiles is conspiring against you). 

“Yeah, cool, that’s nice and all,” Stiles says, waving that away as if to him, Peter not wanting to date a minor is just a small inconvenience, “but we both know I graduated almost two months ago.”

“Yes, and in another month you’ll be leaving for Columbia,” Peter says. God, where is the rest of the stupid pack? They can’t all be picking up pizza.

“So?” Stiles asks. “What, trying something long distance isn’t worth it to you?“ 

"I’m saying you’re going to have plenty of opportunities that don’t require you being tied to someone thousands of miles away,” Peter says. Stiles scoffs. He’s always had a bit of a talent for seeing through Peter.

“Nobility is a bad look on you,” Stiles snaps. Peter glares, the barb actually stinging a bit.

“Why won’t you accept my answer?” Peter asks.

“Because you haven’t given me one! Just a lot of sidestepping, Peter Hale avoidist bullshit. Look, if you aren’t interested, just fucking say so,” Stiles says, hurt seeping into his scent. He’s good at hiding behind bravado and sarcasm, but there’s still a part of Stiles that is deeply insecure, that feels like he’s not good enough for the people around him. “Just…just say so, okay?

If Peter were a better man, he’d let Stiles think that’s it, that he’s letting his friend down easy and isn’t interested in anything more. He’d let Stiles go on with his life, meet guys and girls his own age, maybe find someone less damaged and burned out inside. The thing is, Peter has never been a particularly good man.

"I’ve thought about us,” Peter admits. Stiles’ breath catches, his face so damn hopeful that Peter knows he’s done for. “I’ve thought about how well we fit together. I’ve thought about kissing you and holding you and loving you. I’ve thought about you being mine.”

“Peter…”

“You’re young, Stiles. You’re going to have opportunities in New York to meet others.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles says immediately, stalking forward into Peter’s space. Peter rests his hands on Stiles’ hips and doesn’t bother trying to tell himself it’s to push him away.. “I know what I want. After everything we’ve been through, I know what I want. Please don’t push me away.”

“Wouldn’t do much good, would it?” Peter asks, tightening his grip on Stiles’ waist.

“Not much,” Stiles says, grinning. Peter sighs, but he knows it’s terribly fond. It’s embarrassing how easily Stiles turns him to putty. “Can I kiss you then?” Stiles asks.

Peter doesn’t answer, just tugs Stiles closer and kisses him soundly. Stiles groans, wrapping his arms around Peter tightly. His plan to wait until Stiles is done with college is gone, and there’s really no point holding back anymore. If he’s going to be with Stiles, he needs him to know how much he wants him. He won’t ever let him wonder again about Peter’s affections. Stiles will know exactly what it is to be Peter’s.


	4. Cis Female!Stiles/Cora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lavender-lotion said:  
> for the friends to lovers (if you're doing them) could you do ... "friends don't do this kind of shit!" for any pairing you like!

lavender-lotion said:  
for the friends to lovers (if you're doing them) could you do ... "friends don't do this kind of shit!" for any pairing you like!

From [this post.](http://hotpinklizard.tumblr.com/post/172784489375/trope-writing-prompts)

* * *

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” Stiles gasps as Cora licks down her belly. She’s lying on her bed, down to just her bra and panties, and it feels like it happened in no time at all.

Cora smirks up at her and tugs at the edge of her underwear. “Good thing we aren’t friends then,” Cora says. 

Stiles doesn’t have a retort to that, because as soon as Cora’s mouth touches her, all thought flies away beyond simple gasps and begging for more. Cora doesn’t deny her, and doesn’t stop until Stiles is a mess of slick and saliva between her legs, cunt throbbing from how many times she’s come.

When Cora’s wrung the pleasure from her, she crawls up Stiles’ body and straddles her face. Stiles tries to mirror what Cora had done to her, to flick her tongue over her clit just so, to nibble and suck and lick. Cora ends up crying out, grinding herself to completion against Stiles’ mouth. 

When she’s done, she rolls to the side, winks at Stiles, and says she’ll see her later. She’s dressed and out the door in less than five minutes. Because she’s right, she and Stiles aren’t friends. They’re allies. They’re more than acquaintances, but not the kind of people that go shopping or get lunch together. They fight side by side and snark with each other at pack meetings, but that’s the extent of it. Stiles thinks that’ll be it, but she’s wrong.

“Friends still don’t do this kind of shit,” Stiles says when Cora tugs her into the corner of the library during Stiles’ free period.

“Are you complaining?” Cora asks, ducking down to suck at Stiles’ throat.

“No-o,” Stiles says, breath hitching as Cora slots a leg between Stiles’ thighs, encouraging her to grind down on her. “Not complaining at all.”

Stiles comes barely a minute later, Cora’s thigh pressing against her wet, hot cunt, Cora squeezing her breast through her shirt, muffling her cries into Cora’s shoulder. She doesn’t even get the chance to offer to return the favor; Cora kisses her forehead and winks again, and disappears into the rows of books while Stiles is still trying to regain her equilibrium. 

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” Stiles says at the next pack meeting. Cora’s sitting next to her on the couch, watching as Derek and Scott start arguing morality again, Peter chiming in whenever it seems like the argument is winding down, just to get them going again.

“Do what?” Cora asks, passing Stiles the bowl of popcorn.

“This,” Stiles says. “Bringing someone their favorite snack, sitting with them, making fun of people together.”

“That’s exactly what friends do,” Cora says.

“So we’re friends then,” Stiles says, shit-eating grin on her face.

“Shut up,” Cora grumbles, but Stiles is pretty sure she sees the hint of a smile. She’s getting pretty good at reading the grumpy Hales.

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” Cora gasps out. Stiles is kneeling next to her, bloody hands fumbling to break open the bullet that keeps slipping in her grasp. The wound in Cora’s side is jagged and bleeding, and Stiles is definitely going to have nightmares about this later.

“Yes, they do,” Stiles says, hissing when she successfully cracks the bullet open. “Friends absolutely do this because friends don’t let friends die, okay?”

Cora laughs, but it turns into a pained whine. Stiles curses under her breath, fighting the lighter that just doesn’t want to work before finally, _finally_ the wolfsbane ignites. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stiles chants under her breath as she shoves the wolfsbane into the hole in Cora’s side. Cora screams, body convulsing before she stills, unconscious. Stiles frantically checks to make sure she’s still breathing, then collapses next to her, hands shaking. She’ll need to try calling Derek again soon, now that the imminent danger of Cora dying is taken care of, but right now she doesn’t think she’d even be able to dial his number.

It’s Peter who eventually finds them hiding in a shallow cave deep in the preserve. There’s no cell service unless Stiles leaves Cora here alone and unconscious, which is something she isn’t willing to do yet, so she’d waited and hoped someone would find them, someone that wasn’t friends with the hunter Stiles had killed when he shot Cora. 

Stiles hears the movement at the mouth of the cave and positions herself in front of Cora, the dead hunter’s gun in her hands. When she sees it’s Peter, she relaxes, letting the gun fall to the side. It was for show anyway, the damn thing is empty. Peter rushes toward them as soon as the gun isn’t pointed at him.

“She was shot,” Stiles says, moving aside so Peter can see his niece.

“Did you get the bullet?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, I burned it out of her, but she’s still unconscious. Is that normal? Derek woke up right away last time…” Stiles says.

“It depends on the strain of wolfsbane I believe,” Peter says. He checks over Cora, checks the healing wound, makes sure her heart and lungs sound right. 

“She’s going to be fine.” Stiles knows she doesn’t imagine the relief in his voice.

“Can we go? Or are there more of them?” Stiles asks.

“We can go,” Peter says, easily lifting Cora’s prone form into his arms. “Derek and Erica dispatched the rest of the hunters.”

“Good.”

Stiles follows Peter through the trees until they get to his car. He lies Cora down in the backseat and Stiles slides in after, settling Cora’s legs over her thighs. She ignores the looks Peter sends her as they drive. She doesn’t care what he has to say.

Derek’s not at the loft when they get there, so Peter steps out to call him once they settle Cora into her room. Stiles takes it upon herself to get a washcloth from the bathroom and clean as much blood and dirt from Cora’s skin as she can, then strips her of her torn shirt and dirty jeans. She doesn’t know what Cora usually sleeps in, but she figures she can’t go wrong with shorts and a baggy t-shirt. 

When she’s done, she curls up next to Cora, watching her breathe. It’s distracting enough that she can keep the panic at almost watching her die at bay. She’s expecting the nightmares and really doesn’t want to sleep, but the adrenaline crash and being awake for thirty-six hours finally hits her, and she falls asleep, body between Cora and the door.

“Friends don’t do shit like this.”

Stiles startles awake at the voice, at the touch to her shoulder. When her eyes focus, she sees Cora lying on her side next to her, their faces inches apart. She looks better, the color back in her cheeks, significantly less shot-by-hunters.

“What?” Stiles asks, still a bit hazy.

“Friends don’t do shit like this,” Cora says. She trails her hand from Stiles’ shoulder to her throat, skimming fingers up to cup her jaw. “They don’t save your life and clean you up and guard you in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m bad at being your friend,” Stiles says. 

Cora smiles slightly, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I think we can work with that.”


	5. Peter/Stiles

bloody-bee-tea said:  
134\. You dont mean that for steter please?

I can't find the post it was from right now.  


* * *

“You don’t mean that,” Peter says.

“Oh yes I do,” Stiles says, running a hand through his messy hair. 

Stiles looks more frazzled than Peter has seen him in a while, hair sticking up in odd places, bags dark and heavy under his eyes. And that’s just what Skype is letting him see. He’s sure it’s worse in person. Peter wants to ask when he ate last, but he has the feeling that now isn’t the time. 

“Stiles, Columbia has been your dream for years,” Peter says. “We both know you aren’t going to withdraw just because of one bad grade on a paper.”

“It’s more than just one bad grade! It’s failing the chemistry midterm and my shitty roommate and late hours at work and two failed papers and if I fail one more I fail the course! If I fail the course, they reevaluate my scholarship and I can’t pay for this without that and - ”

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Peter says, cutting in before Stiles can hyperventilate. “Please just take a few deep breaths for me, there we are.”

Stiles does as he’s asked, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Peter hums in approval, though he’s worried about the tension still held in Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Sorry,” Stiles says. “It’s stupid. I managed fine with all the shit that tried to kill me for years, but it’s college I can’t deal with? I’ve been almost top of my class my whole life, why is this what’s killing me? No, homicidal werewolves and fox spirits were fine, but now I’m losing it?”

“Maybe that’s precisely why you’re struggling,” Peter says. “You’re finally in a place where there aren’t any dangers to you. You don’t have to be ready for an attack twenty-four/seven. Your mind knows it’s safe to panic now, versus when you were running for your life.”

“Brains are stupid,” Stiles grumbles, blinking quickly. Peter’s pretty sure he’s trying to hold back tears and it makes him ache to have his boy in his arms again.

“They are,” Peter agrees. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, shrugging one shoulder, scrubbing at the corner of his eye.

“I think you should quit your job. It causes you nothing but stress, it’s not a resume-builder, and the pay isn’t exactly stellar,” Peter says. Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but Peter cuts him off. “I know what you’re going to say, and we both know I’m more than okay with transferring you any money that you need.”

“Lots of people go to school and have a job,” Stiles says defensively. 

“I know that,” Peter says. “And lots of people don’t. One option isn’t better than the other.”

“But other people - ”

“I don’t care what other people do,” Peter says. “They can deal with things in their own way, it doesn’t matter. What matters to me is you and your health, and I think this would help. I also suggest a lighter schedule next semester. You’re taking more than a full load and that’s not necessary just because you want to graduate early.”

Stiles sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. “I hate when you’re right,” he says. “You don’t shut up about it for weeks.”

Peter snorts fondly, shaking his head. “I promise to be less smug about it this time,” he says. “And I can always have a little chat with your roommate if you’d like.” Peter flicks out his claws as he says it, examining them closely. 

“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “No, I’ll deal with Cole.”

“Just remember what I said at the start of the year. I’m more than fine helping you pay for an off-campus apartment,” Peter says.

“I know. I’ll think about it, okay? I just don’t want you thinking I’m after you to just be my sugar daddy,” Stiles says. “I love you for more than your money.”

Peter’s eyes soften. “Oh I know, my love, don’t you worry about that,” Peter says. “It’s getting late. May I suggest you getting something to eat and trying to sleep? Your paper can wait until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says. “Thanks, Peter.”

“You’re welcome, sweet boy. Sleep well.”

Peter sits back when the Skype call disconnects, sighing. He’d known Stiles was struggling a bit to adapt to college, but he hadn’t known it’s this bad at all. He leans forward, pulling up a web browser. Perhaps it’s time for him to look at flights out east.


	6. Peter/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yogi-bogey-box said:  
> Steter, 29. “I thought you were dead.” Pretty please? :D?

yogi-bogey-box said:  
Steter, 29. “I thought you were dead.” Pretty please? :D?

From [this post](http://hotpinklizard.tumblr.com/post/173077022585/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you)

* * *

"I thought you were dead," Stiles says dully. Tonight he's been beaten by a senior citizen, crashed his car through a wall into a giant lizard, and watched the girl he's had a crush on bring said lizard back to life with the power of _love_. Oh, and learned that his best friend is capable of stealing Derek's bodily autonomy, while thinking he deserves a pat on the back for it. He really doesn't have the energy to stress about Peter, reanimated or not.

"People keep saying that," Peter says. "Yet here I am."

"I hope you know there are about a million zombie jokes I'll be making when my brain is back online," Stiles says.

"I'd be more surprised if you didn't," Peter says. 

Peter takes a step closer, frowning when Stiles flinches. Stiles doesn't actually think Peter will hurt him, he's had plenty of chances, but everything hurts right now and it's hard to get over the flinching instinct when you've recently had the shit kicked out of you. He stands straighter though, looking at Peter, challenging, but Peter just looks...sad. Stiles stays still when Peter reaches out again, brushing his fingers under the biggest of Stiles' bruises on his cheek.

"What have they done to you, sweetheart?" Peter murmurs. 

Any other time, Stiles would snap that he isn't his sweetheart and to go the fuck away, but with his touch comes a wave of pain relief and really, that's more valuable to Stiles right now than righteous indignation. He'd be embarrassed by the small noise of relief he makes, but again, pain.

"I can hear sirens," Peter says quietly. "We should leave."

When Stiles looks around, everyone else has pretty much left anyway. Chris Argent is bundling Allison into the car, along with Jackson and Lydia, and won't that be a fun ride home? Isaac is talking quietly to Derek, probably trying to console him. Good luck with that. Scott is staring after Allison, but Stiles has no interest in giving him a ride after the shit he pulled tonight. He can walk home for all Stiles cares.

"Yeah. Let's go," Stiles says, then snorts when Peter holds his hands out for the keys. "Cute, but no."

"I'll keep draining your pain if you let me drive," Peter says. 

Which, tempting, but, "My baby is worth more to me than ten minutes of comfort," Stiles says.

"Hmm. Then how about I pay for the repairs?" Peter asks.

That gets Stiles' attention because while he is prideful, he's also very broke. 

"Fine," Stiles says. "But if you hit any potholes I'm terminating your rights and you're walking."

"Fair enough," Peter says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Peter actually is careful driving back to Stiles' house (Stiles doesn't ask why he knows where he lives; he doesn't know if he'd like the answer), keeping one hand on Stiles' wrist, draining his pain. Stiles watches, fascinated, as the black crawls up Peter's veins. 

"Does that hurt you?" Stiles asks.

"Not as much as it hurts you," Peter says.

When they go over a speed bump, Stiles hissing as it jostles his ribs, Peter twines theirs fingers together, squeezing his hand tightly as he pulls out the pain. Stiles doesn't give a fuck that Peter's a murderer, okay? He killed the people that killed his family, and Stiles can't even pretend to think that's bad. Right now, murderer or no, Peter's the one who cares that Stiles isn't okay. Peter's the one who sought him out, who's playing caretaker (bizarre caretaker, but still). For once, Stiles is the one being taken care of, and he needs that.

"Does your father know?" Peter asks as they pull up in front of Stiles' house. The sheriff's cruiser isn't there.

"That Gerard beat the shit out of me? No," Stiles says. "He thinks it was some guys from the other lacrosse team."

"So he wouldn't be on the lookout for Gerard's body?" Peter asks casually. 

"No, he probably wouldn't," Stiles says. "Though if you're going to commit murder, please do it a county over. My dad's had enough problems because of me."

"You could tell him," Peter says. "Knowing about the things that go bump in the night could only make him safer."

"Right, like he wouldn't try to commit me to a psych hospital on the spot if I told him werewolves are real," Stiles says with a scoff. Peter's fingers tighten on his, and he's suddenly very aware that they're alone in the car. 

"Not if you had someone there to prove what you're saying is true," Peter says, eyes flashing blue in the dark car. Stiles' heart races, and it isn't completely from fear.

"You'd do that?" Stiles asks. "Exposing yourself to someone, especially local law enforcement seems like a big no-no. Unless you're trying to get in good with the sheriff, and I can guarantee you, wolfing out in his kitchen is not the way to do that."

"Think it over," Peter says, eyes fading back to normal. "It's an option you have."

Stiles nods and tugs his hand back, climbing out of the car. He expects the pain to flood back when Peter lets go, but it doesn't. He's not sure how long that'll last, and he wants to be in bed and asleep before the aches set back in. 

"How are you getting home?" Stiles asks, taking his keys back from Peter. "Or wherever it is you're staying? Please say it's not at Derek's train station hovel."

"No, my nephew's version of luxury isn't the same as mine," Peter says. "I'm fine walking. Get some rest, Stiles."

"Thanks," Stiles says. "For, you know. Everything."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Peter says.

"I'm not your sweetheart," Stiles says.

Peter just smirks over his shoulder as he walks away.


	7. Peter/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spookymiscreant said:  
> Hiya! I was hoping you would be so kind as to write steter+ 21. "We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?" but like maybe it's after Eichen(for either stiles or Peter depending on what you want to put the timeline) and they just couldn't help themselves because rain! It's actually rain!

spookymiscreant said:  
Hiya! I was hoping you would be so kind as to write steter+ 21. "We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?" but like maybe it's after Eichen(for either stiles or Peter depending on what you want to put the timeline) and they just couldn't help themselves because rain! It's actually rain!

* * *

"Peter, we have to go!" Stiles hisses.

They're on foot, Stiles not wanting to risk his very recognizable Jeep being spotted, and only a mile or two away from Eichen House. If Stiles had done everything right, and he likes to think that he did, no one should notice that Peter is gone until the morning. But he knows that in reality, anything can happen. A guard can take a round early, another inmate could notice Peter gone and start screaming, someone may have seen through Stiles' glamour. For all he knows, the Eichen staff are on their tails right now.

"Peter," Stiles says again, trying to tug of Peter's arm, but the man won't budge. 

They're standing in the front yard of an abandoned house, in a less than stellar area, in the middle of a truly torrential downpour. It had taken about thirty seconds for Stiles to get soaked to the bone, and even though it's a summer rain, it chills him. (Everything chills him these days.)

Peter seems content to stand under the sheet of rain, his head tilted toward the sky, eyes closed. There are too many dark, angry clouds to see the full moon, but Stiles is sure Peter can feel its pull. He can't imagine what it's like for a werewolf to feel it again, especially after months locked underground, but this really isn't the time.

"Peter. I just broke you out of one of the most magically secure, cruel, supernatural penitentiaries in the world. You're still in prison clothes. We're on the run, on foot, in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and _feel the rain_?" Stiles hisses.

Stiles grabs Peter's wrist, trying again to pull him forward, but it's like trying to tug a boulder. Peter twists his wrist easily in Stiles' grip and twines their fingers together. His face is still tilted toward the sky, rain running in little rivulets down his skin. He looks beautiful; heartbroken and joyous at once, like he'd never thought he'd get something as simple as feeling the rain on his face again. Stiles is proud that he's able to give him this, but it means nothing if they're caught. 

Peter's grip on Stiles' fingers tightens, making Stiles look down at their hands. Peter's are strong and capable (though the skin is rough and cracked after months of mistreatment and wolfsbane torture), making Stiles' look even thinner and more delicate than usual. When he looks back up, Peter's gaze is on him, his face illuminated by the dim streetlight twenty feet away and the occasional lightning burst. Stiles doesn't know what to do with the intensity in that look, with how Peter's staring at him like he handed him the world. Hell, maybe he did.

"Stiles," Peter says. That's what he'd said when Stiles had melted the door to his cell, before he had flushed the wolfsbane from Peter's system. He'd been weak and barely coherent, couldn't really react when Stiles had tried to get him to move or string two words together. But he'd recognized Stiles, and gasped out his name.

"Yeah," Stiles says, swallowing hard. 

"I knew you'd come," he says, and Stiles' heart beats a little faster. They've never discussed it, the unsaid thing between them. They've never put a name to the tension, the lingering looks and unnecessary touches that thrive with them. 

"Yeah, well, I found Kate's book of magical mind controlling, Derek de-aging, berserker-creating bullshit. It's not like I could just leave you there to rot for something she made you do," Stiles says.

Peter smiles slightly, thumb brushing over the back of Stiles' hand. "Always the clever one," Peter says. Stiles...doesn't know what to say to that, and luckily doesn't have to, because Peter keeps talking. "You're right. We need to go."

Peter doesn't drop Stiles' hand as they continue forward, but clutches it tightly, like he needs the reminder that Stiles is here and real. Stiles makes no move to pull away.


	8. Cis Female!Stiles/Cora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> I noticed that a couple of your nsfw cis fem!stiles inspos were also tagged Cora, so I was wondering if you'd accept a prompt for no fire Cora and cis fem!Stiles being bffs who get mistaken for twins/sisters and it really gets them off to pretend to be twins when they mess around. Additional Halecest would be in unexpected gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE. Halecest, pretend incest, Stiles and Cora in high school (so underage, depending on where you are), cis female!Stiles.

Anonymous said:  
I noticed that a couple of your nsfw cis fem!stiles inspos were also tagged Cora, so I was wondering if you'd accept a prompt for no fire Cora and cis fem!Stiles being bffs who get mistaken for twins/sisters and it really gets them off to pretend to be twins when they mess around. Additional Halecest would be in unexpected gift.

* * *

Stiles hates clothes shopping in general, especially for swim suits, but when Cora insists, well, she gets what she wants. It's their last summer before college, the last they'll have, and they plan to spend as much of it outside swimming in the preserve's lake as possible. Even Stiles has to admit the swimsuit she has is entirely too small, and in an uncomfortable way, not a sexy way. 

She immediately regrets her decision when they clerk helping them out asks if they're sisters. Heat gathers between her thighs and she's almost immediately wet, like she always is when people assume that about them. Cora, with that werewolf sense of smell, notices at once. She smirks and wraps an arm around Stiles' waist and tells the clerk that they're twins, and that they don't mind sharing a dressing room. As soon as the door closes behind them, Cora is shoving her into the wall, flashing fang, eyes flaring gold. 

"Better stay quiet, wouldn't want anyone to hear you moaning for your sister," Cora whispers in her ear.

Before Stiles can ask what she means, Cora's dropping to her knees, unbuttoning Stiles' jeans and tugging them down her thighs. She grins when she sees Stiles' soaked panties, rubbing a finger over the wetness gathered there.

"Oh god," Stiles groans, then covers her mouth with her hand. She knows herself, knows there's no way she'll be able to keep quiet on her own. 

"Always so wet for your sister," Cora murmurs, pressing a kiss over Stiles' mound before tugging her panties down. "Such a twisted little girl. Perfect for the Hales."

Stiles' legs almost give out when Cora spreads her labia and licks her hard little clit. She grasps Cora's shoulder, nearly shaking with need. It's been a couple of weeks since they've done this, both too busy with school and extracurriculars to spend much time together outside of school, and _fuck_ she's missed this. Cora knows exactly how to play her body, how to make her whimper and gasp, how to bring her to the brink in less than a minute and a half (and she's working on lowering that time).

Cora has three fingers in Stiles, fucking against her g-spot as she sucks at her clit, dragging her closer and closer to the edge. Stiles' thighs are quivering, her teeth sunk into her hand to muffle her moans. Cora doesn't make it easy on her, loving to see Stiles fall apart for her. Public is something new for them, fucking in places people could find them, where she needs to take Stiles apart quickly and silently. It's a game she loves, and Stiles has no complaints.

Cora digs the nails of her free hand into the meat of Stiles' thigh, dragging them down her skin making her gasp. Cora knows exactly what kind of pain gets her close, and between her talented tongue and insistent fingers, Stiles comes with a muffled shout, trembling against the wall. 

Cora smirks up at her, Stiles' juices smeared over the lower half of her face, and Stiles grabs her by the arm and yanks her up, kissing her hungrily. She loves the taste of herself on Cora's tongue, the way Cora is still so eager for her. Cora pulls away and lets Stiles tug her panties and jeans back on. She manages to mostly fix her hair, so she doesn't look like she just got off in the Macy's dressing room, but the flush to her cheeks feels like a give away. 

Cora holds up a bikini top up to Stiles' chest and hums, nodding. "This'll work, come on," she says, taking Stiles by the hand and pulling her from the room.

"We haven't tried anything on," Stiles says.

"Oh honey, I'm not done with you," Cora says. "That was a warm up. It's been way too long since I've fucked you."

It doesn't matter that she just came, because whenever she thinks about Cora fucking her, she's ready to go again. And Cora knows it. They pay and quickly drive the ten minutes to the Hale house. It's torture to keep her hands on the steering wheel, but she refuses to crash and have to explain to her dad that the reason her eyes weren't on the road is she was distracted by her hand down Cora's shorts.

They hurry out of the car once they park in the Hale driveway, taking the porch stairs two at a time. Peter is lounging naked on the couch in the living room when they walk in, a nude Laura kneeling between his spread thighs. His thick cock is deep in her throat, Laura moaning around him, one hand between her thighs.

"Have fun?" Peter asks, eye twinkling. Stiles blushes, knowing he can probably smell the wetness between her thighs.

"Always," Cora says, tugging Stiles by the wrist. "We'll be upstairs."

"Have a good time. I'll send Derek up when he gets home. He's missed you girls," Peter says.

Cora throws a thumbs up over her shoulder right as Peter moans, twisting his hand in Laura's hair. They get to Cora's room right when Peter starts murmuring about what a good girl she is. They don't bother closing the door, a habit that it took Cora a bit to get Stiles used to. The Hales would hear what they're doing anyway, and it's always fun to have someone watch them. And to be able to hear what everyone else is doing. 

"Strip," Cora orders.

Stiles does as she says, pulling her clothes off and kicking them into the corner before scooting to the middle of Cora's bed. Cora takes a bit longer, needing to pull out the strap on she keeps under her bed and attach the thick, purple, silicone cock they both love. There's a place for a toy at the crotch of the strap on so Cora can have something inside her, too. She sighs happily as she pulls the straps up her toned thighs, sinking the dildo into herself. She and Stiles both love being filled, having their needy cunts stuffed full, but Cora prefers to be the one doing the fucking, which Stiles is thrilled with.

Stiles spreads her legs as Cora crawls onto the bed, displaying her wet cunt, swollen with need. Cora grins and rubs the tip of the toy up and down Stiles' slit, getting it nice and wet and teasing her needy clit. 

"Cora," Stiles whines, tilting her hips up. "Come on, it's been weeks."

"That's what happens when you join lacrosse," Cora says, but she pushes her hips forward, slowly sinking that thick cock into Stiles.

"You - hng - you're on basketball," Stiles manages to say, but her voices falls away when Cora gets all the way inside her.

"What was that?" Cora teases, rolling her hips, the toy shifting inside Stiles as it stretches her open. Stiles makes a guttural groan, but can't make words come. "Mm, that's what I thought."

Usually Cora starts slowly, but they both haven't had each other in long enough that they're tilting toward desperate. Cora fucks into Stiles hard, making her shout and brace her hands against the headboard. Stiles wraps her legs around Cora's waist, encouraging her to fuck her harder, baring her neck. Cora grunts as she thrusts forward, grinding her clit against the harness, trying to chase her own pleasure. Stiles bucks into the thrusts as much as she can, her second orgasm in an hour quickly building within her. It's only a few more moments until she's screaming, cunt clenching around the toy. It's not as strong as the one in the dressing room, but it's still powerful, like every time she's with Cora.

Cora thrusts deeply into her and grinds, rubbing her clit against the crotch of the strap on. Stiles shudders, so wonderfully full, pussy still fluttering around the thick silicone. She reaches up, pinches at Cora's nipples. She's always so sensitive, and now is no exception. Her eyes flash yellow as she trembles, and Stiles knows she's close. She leans up and wraps her lips around a nipple, flicking her tongue over the hard bud before biting down. Cora shrieks and bucks against Stiles as she comes, grasping her tightly. She falls to the side, the strap on slipping from Stiles, making her mewl.

"Fuck," Stiles groans as Cora shimmies out of the straps. She punches Cora lightly in the arm. "We need to do that more often."

"A few weeks 'til summer," Cora says, throwing a lazy arm over Stiles' bare waist. "We both know you'll be over here every day."

Stiles shrugs, completely unrepentant. There's a creak outside Cora's room and they both look up to see Derek leaning in the doorway, strong arms crossed over his chest. His eyes travel hungrily over their nude bodies. Cora smirks and spreads her thighs, showing off her wet cunt. 

"Gonna join us?" she asks.

Derek grins and stalks forward. "How could I say no to my little sisters?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


End file.
